


As We Sleep V

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [36]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demons, Dreams, Hell, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As We Sleep V

XXXVI.

Dean dreams.

* * *

_….light heat noise pain..._

_There’s someone on the table._

_Somewhere he knows he’s screaming, screaming himself bloody but he picks up tools -- tools, for fuck’s sake! - and walks to the bound soul -- but it isn’t a soul is it? it’s a fucking body \-- it’s a fucking person and he’s still going to do this._

_Because it was done to him? to his dad? would have been done to Sammy?_

_That’s gone somewhere in the screaming, too. Maybe that part of him understands why but, if it does, it’s not sharing._

_Oriana strolls around the table into the light-- here, now, she’s tall, slim, verging on the androgynous with small, high breasts that he thinks might be barely visible... if she had clothes on._

_‘Your tenth, Winchester.’ She strokes over the woman’s calf with a long-fingered hand. ‘This one’s named Sara.’_

_Dean stands and waits. The tools are warm and heavy in his hands._

_Oriana looks at him and smiles. Her teeth are sharp, black, like the rest of her -- she might be an animated onyx statue. Her fingernails, equally sharp, equally black, trace a line of blood up the woman’s leg._

_...light heat noise pain..._

* * *

Dean jerks, twists in his sleep, forcing his hands open against the sheets, trying to drop something he isn’t holding.

* * *

_...light heat noise pain..._

_Oriana is crouched over the woman’s bound body, balancing easily on the balls of her feet, one hand on the woman’s shoulder, the other on her abdomen, just below the rise of her belly. ‘Come here, Winchester.’_

_Dean steps to the side of the table, not looking down at the woman, meeting Oriana’s dead black eyes evenly. He remembers when they were horrible -- he remembers being a boy and seeing those shark eyes for the first time -- now they’re just how things are._

_‘Like her?’ Oriana gestures to the woman spread below her, strokes a contemplative hand over her breasts and belly. The woman moans, the sound ragged in her throat. There’s already blood streaking her skin -- whatever fight she put up against the hellhounds, it must’ve been a good one._

_Dean doesn’t look down._

_Oriana grins at him, teeth sharp, and jumps from the table in a smooth motion, circling it to stand behind him. Her hands grip his sides, her sharp nails piercing skin. ‘What if I told you no tools for this one?’_

_‘I don’t --’ Screaming himself bloody._

_‘I know what will work...the surest way forward.’ And Oriana leans forward, whispers in his ear as she caresses his body in a way that’s almost gentle._

_...light heat noise pain..._

* * *

Dean rips himself awake, sweating, clutching at the pillow. His legs ache as if he has been running and he collapses back against the mattress with a groan.

_Jesus...Jesus fuck..._

He drops the pillow over his face and presses it there, half-relishing the coolness, half-wishing he could just press hard enough to make himself pass out.

He knows what happens next in the dream -- knows what Oriana told him -- knows what he did to the woman stretched on the rack.

He grits his teeth, rolls on his side, and digs his nails into the pillow.

So why the fuck had he thought he’d be able to escape doing the same thing to Cas?

Because he’d always been so goddamn lucky before when it came to escaping consequences?

Because he didn’t _want_ to hurt the angel?

Because he’d woken up from different dreams, dreams where Castiel moved over him and in him and around him in new ways and, in the dreams, he saw himself capable of that, too?

Fuck that -- he should never have trusted himself.

 _So fuck you, Winchester,_ he thinks to himself, squeezing his eyes shut against tears he knows are going to come anyway. _Fuck you for trying._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Anthem of the Angels," Breaking Benjamin, _Dear Agony._
> 
> Uh. Yeah. Sorry.


End file.
